


Babysitting Tony Stark

by SailorChibi



Series: Babysitting Tony [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidents, Adult baby, Age Play, Angst, Baby!Tony, Baby-sitting, Bathing, Big Brother Clint, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Cuddling, Daddy!Steve, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Infantilism, Little!Tony, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Phil Coulson Needs a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Self-Esteem Issues, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Supernanny Phil Coulson, Teddy Bears, Thumb-sucking, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Uncle Phil, Wetting, bottles, but only tony, clint barton has daddy issues, clint is about four years old, consensual age play, daddy!Phil, little!Clint, non sexual infantilism, sippy cups, steve is oblivious sometimes, washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the better part of a year, Steve has been obsessed with finding Bucky to the point where he's neglecting everything else - including his boyfriend, Tony. Tony puts a brave face on and acts as supportive as he can, but on the inside he's falling apart.</p><p>And no one knows it until the night Tony snaps. In a fit of desperation, JARVIS calls on Phil, the only one capable of understanding because of his age play with Clint, to care for Tony. Phil might not be used to taking care of someone as little as Tony Stark, but - until Steve gets the emergency message to return - he'll be damned if he lets that stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As part of my plan to get more age play concerning my two fav characters (Tony and Dean) out there, I decided to do a spin on a "Bucky is alive" story that features age play. Mostly because I've never seen that done before.
> 
> It's only _supposed_ to have two chapters [one from Phil's perspective, one from Steve's] but we'll see how that goes, I sense it will not go well.
> 
> Note: Tony is a baby, but when Clint age plays he's usually around four years old.

Officially, Phil still had a small apartment in downtown New York, and that was the address on all of his SHIELD files. Unofficially, he spent most of his nights in Avengers Tower with Clint. He hadn't moved in (though according to Clint, it was only a matter of time until they returned from a mission and found out that Tony had just gone ahead and moved his things without permission), but he had a standing invitation to sleep over anytime he wanted. That was his explanation for being at the breakfast table that morning.

Tony was already there when Phil walked in, the sole occupant of the enormous table in the communal kitchen. There was a full mug of hot coffee and a bowl of cereal right in front of him, but Tony didn't seem to be interested in either one. Which wasn't surprising in the context of the cereal, but was very unusual in terms of the coffee: caffeine in liquid form didn't tend to last long around Tony Stark, particularly when it was only 7am.

Phil poured himself a cup and sat down with the newspaper, watching him out of the corner of his eye. Tony was awake, sort of, though there was a glazed look in his eyes that suggested he wasn't all there. It was becoming an increasingly familiar look, though it was the first time Phil had even seen Tony looking so... lost. Like he genuinely did not know what to do with the food and drink in front of him.

It didn't change, either, as one by one the other Avengers except for Steve and Natasha wandered in. Even when Clint leaned across the table and stole Tony's coffee, Tony didn't react. That earned him more than a few raised eyebrows, if only because the last time Clint had tried that, he'd been stabbed in the arm with a fork for his trouble. Tony was notoriously possessive over his coffee and wasn't afraid to get violent defending it.

"Tony, are you okay?" Bruce asked, breaking the quiet that, by unspoken consensus, usually dominated the kitchen before ten.

Slowly, Tony blinked and made a soft sound in the back of his throat. He didn't get the chance to say more, not that Phil thought he would have. Steve chose that moment to walk in, already fully dressed for the day in boots, jeans, a t-shirt with a plaid shirt layered over it, and a backpack. He went straight over to the cupboard and picked out several of the little travel packs JARVIS kept stocked, which were crammed with high protein snacks for when Bruce or Steve needed a boost.

"JARVIS reported that Bucky's been spotted in Canada," he announced to the room at large, managing to sound both excited and weary about the news. "Nat and I are heading out to see if we can track him down. It's the closest he's ever been to us."

"Do you think it means something?" Clint asked, sitting back with Tony's stolen coffee. He drank from the mug, made a face and reached for the sugar.

"I don't know. I hope so." Steve put a hand to the back of Tony's head, leaning down to press a brief, distracted kiss to Tony's mouth. "Bye, babe," he muttered into the kiss. "I'll keep you updated."

He walked out, leaving Tony watching after him with that vacant, lost expression that was starting to make alarm bells ring in the back of Phil's head. There was almost something childlike about Tony right then. It was really something that Phil, with all of his experience, should have pursued further, before Steve left the Tower and the country. But his cell phone rang at that moment and it was Maria, and all thoughts of Tony Stark were swept away in another day at SHIELD.

Despite that, it was a relatively quiet day, and Phil was glad to crawl into bed with Clint that night. As he settled down, pulling Clint into his arms, he vaguely wondered when Steve and Tony had last slept in the same bed. If he had to guess, he would've said that it had been a very long time. If he had to make an exact guess, he would've said nine months and twenty-one days: the length of time it had been since Bucky Barnes was first identified as the Winter Soldier.

But it wasn't his business, and that was exactly why wasn't interested in making those kinds of guesses. Instead, he pressed his face into Clint's hair and sighed as Clint mumbled something about flying bananas. Sleep overcame him quickly, until he woke up to the sound of a voice in the bedroom. It was a familiar voice, albeit muddled, and Phil struggled to shake off the clinginess of a good night's rest.

"JARVIS?" he asked with just a hint of a slur, his mind rapidly coming together. It was one of the few lingering effects of his brush with death: he didn't snap instantly awake anymore, the way he used to. 

"My apologies for waking you, Agent Coulson," JARVIS said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "But your presence is needed in Captain Rogers's room."

"Steve?" Clint slurred, still half asleep. "Steve's gone."

"Go back to sleep, baby," Phil told him, smoothing a hand over Clint's forehead. He slipped out of the bed, not surprised when Clint grumbled and sat up. "Is it okay if Clint comes too, JARVIS?"

"Yes, but please hurry."

Phil pulled on his robe and hurried to the door in his slippers. Clint followed. They took the elevator up to Steve's floor. It was quiet, but not empty. Even though there was no one in sight, Phil could tell that much. He walked silently towards the door to Steve's bedroom, which was wide open. What he saw was not what he was expecting to see, though there was a very tiny part of him that was not surprised.

Tony was curled up in the middle of Steve's bed. His eyes were shut, though they opened briefly when Phil stepped into the room before slipping closed again. For a moment, Phil wasn't sure why JARVIS had summoned him to the room. It was a little unusual for Tony to be sleeping alone in Steve's bed, but it wasn't like Steve would mind. The two of them had been dating for the better part of two years now. 

Then Clint brushed by him, yawning widely, and started to reach out for Tony, saying, "Come on, man, it's too late for this -"

Flinching back like Clint had raised a hand to slap him, Tony whimpered and then quietly started to cry.

Clint froze. 

Phil sighed. "He's like you," he said softly. "Isn't he, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson," JARVIS confirmed. "Captain Rogers and Sir have been age playing for at least once a week over the past two years."

Phil nodded as Clint sucked in a sharp breath, looking at the little boy in the very large bed. It made sense so long as he didn't think about it too closely, too _intimately_. Steve had been preoccupied for the better part of a year now. He could only imagine how Clint would fall apart if they didn't play go for that long, and he and Clint weren't exactly regular at playing thanks to their often hectic schedules. It would be so much worse for someone who _was_ used to it.

Worse yet, an obnoxious voice in the back of his head pointed out, this was Tony, who would never come right out and tell someone he cared about that they weren't giving him what he needed, whether that was romantically or platonically or paternally. Not if it meant that Steve might be inconvenienced in some way. Even if it meant that Tony had been slowly sliding down a destructive slope that had ended up here, with a confused, hysterical toddler.

"I am going to kill Steve," Clint said very slowly.

"That won't help right now," Phil said, even though he shared the sentiment. 

"I think he wet himself," Clint added, like that was explanation enough, and there was a note of distress in his voice that hadn't been there before. 

"Help me get him into the bathroom and then go see if you can contact Steve or Natasha. I don't care about Barnes right now. Steve has responsibilities here." The words came out sharper than he intended, revealing the anger he couldn't conceal in spite of his best efforts, but they seemed to bolster Clint.

Tony's soft sobs grew marginally louder when Clint pulled the sodden sheets down, revealing his soaked boxers and t-shirt, and he buried his face in his hands. Clint scooped him up with an ease Phil envied, and he rubbed automatically at the place on his chest where Loki had stabbed him. He'd never possessed the strength necessary to pick Clint - or Tony - up, but there were some things that were exponentially easier before he'd been stabbed.

Clint carried Tony into the bathroom and set him down on the toilet at Phil's request. Phil switched the tub on, letting only a few inches of water in before he switched it off. SHIELD records in regards to Tony were sketchy at best, but he knew about the torture Tony had suffered in Afghanistan. As far as Tony was concerned, he was already with two people who had never been around him like this. Putting him in a tub full of water was just asking for a panic attack.

Briskly, well used to this part, he stripped off Tony's t-shirt and boxers with Clint's help and then nodded for Clint to set him down in the tub. Tony cried harder when he felt the water, but he didn't try to struggle. It was hard to decide whether that was a bad sign or not, but, seeing the worry he felt reflected in Clint's face, Phil was going with the former. He paused just long enough to clasp Clint's shoulder, squeezing warmly, before he let Clint leave the bathroom.

"Hey now, Tony, it's okay. I understand. Clint and I do the same thing," Phil whispered, softening his voice into a tone he only used with Clint. He knelt down by the side of the tub and ran a hand through Tony's greasy hair. "It's okay, honey. I'm just going to give you a bath, and it will make you feel so much better. And then Daddy will be home, alright?"

He didn't get an answer from Tony, not that he was expecting much of one. Tony was probably confused and humiliated, but so exhausted and emotionally and mentally overwrought that he couldn't do anything but cry. Phil rolled up the sleeves of his robe and reached for the bottle of children's body wash on the side of the tub, presumably put there for occasions just like this. As he squirted some of the body wash onto a loofah, he wondered how he'd missed this. Steve and Tony must have gone to lengths to hide it, which wasn't surprising - but if someone had known, they could have intervened long before Tony broke down.

He kept talking as he placed the loofah against Tony's shoulder, hoping that the sound of his voice might be enough to ground Tony in the present. The blank look in Tony's eyes was worrying, and he had yet to stop crying: tears were still silently sliding down his cheeks, the only sounds the occasional hitch in his breathing. Phil rambled on about his day at SHIELD as he gently scrubbed down Tony's arms and then across his shoulders and back, telling him about the new agents and how much Clint liked scaring them, and about how HR was trying to come down on Fury for not taking vacation days, something which was going over about as well as Phil had expected.

A little more cautiously, he took hold of Tony's left leg and started to clean there. As he got higher Tony didn't react, though when Phil glanced up at his face he realized that Tony was blushing a little as he watched the progress of loofah. He dredged up as much of his ironclad agent composure as he could and briskly cleaned around Tony's genitals, not wanting to leave any urine on the boy's skin. The only part of Tony's body he left untouched was his chest. No one touched the arc reactor unless they had Tony's express permission (or unless he was unconscious and at risk of dying because of said reactor) because the chance of sending Tony into a full scale panic attack was just too high. 

Once Tony was clean, Phil set the loofah aside and sighed as he straightened his back. It was a little easier with Clint, if only because he had a stool he sat on instead of having to kneel. But no matter how bad his knees ached, there was no way he was leaving Tony alone. He grabbed some shampoo and a cup and started to wet Tony's hair, a little surprised when Tony started to cry again at the feel of the water running over his hair. Phil shushed him, putting the cup aside and squeezing some shampoo onto his hands. He put his fingers into Tony's hair and started to rub.

"JARVIS," he said, because there was a suspicion building in the back of his mind that he needed to have confirmed. "How old is Tony right now?"

"Sir has never expressed an exact age," JARVIS replied instantly. "But to give you my best estimate, Agent Coulson, Sir is around twenty months old."

Phil exhaled through his teeth, looking down at the white lather he'd generated. That was pretty young. Younger than he felt equipped to deal with. Clint's age usually hit around four or five, though on rare occasions he did age down a little younger than that. And sometimes that meant he wanted what he liked to call 'the full treatment'. But they'd only done that a handful of times. He wasn't sure he was ready to deal with a baby. But what was it Fury had said to him about the Avengers once? Not trial by fire, but trial by big ass explosions? Phil chuckled mirthlessly, cupping a hand over Tony's eyes as he rinsed Tony's hair out. Tony squirmed and sobbed, but it was so weak that it was heartbreaking. 

He let the water drain out of the tub and draped a towel around Tony's shoulders to keep him warm, then got up and investigated Steve's linen closet. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find a diaper bag on the bottom shelf, hidden behind a couple of old towels. Phil yanked it out and laid a towel on the floor, along with a diaper and talcum powder. He had just put the bag back where it belonged when Clint, displaying the kind of timing that had kept him alive all this time, walked into the room and took one look at what was going on. The about-face he performed was admirable, even if it didn't work.

"Stop right there," Phil commanded in his best daddy voice, because sometimes being Agent Coulson didn't work and he suspected 4am was one of those times.

Sure enough, when Clint turned around he was pouting. "Babies are gross," he whined, crossing his arms. "I didn't think Tony was a baby."

"If I might remind you, I had to put you in diapers once," Phil pointed out, refusing to feel guilty when Clint flushed. Sure Clint had been sick at the time, but that didn't mean he got to say anything about Tony. Phil had taught him better than that. "And you wear pull-ups to bed. Everyone has different needs, Clint. You and I talked about this, remember? I bet Tony wouldn't say it was gross that you like playing with dolls, or that you still like to be fed baby food sometimes."

Clint pouted even harder but let his arms drop to his sides. "I left a message for Nat," he said grumpily, which was his way of acknowledging that Phil was right without admitting it.

"Good. Now help me get Tony out of the tub."

Between the two of them, they got Tony standing on wobbly legs and then down on the floor on the towel. Phil expertly diapered him - because Clint might not have been a fan of diapers, but he'd spent enough time around his niece and nephew to have experience - and then, calling on every last bit of patience, managed to get a wriggling baby into an oversized t-shirt that had been pilfered from Steve's closet. The t-shirt was big enough that Tony was swimming in it; it fell to mid-thigh and covered up the fact that he was wearing a diaper, and Phil figured that was good enough.

By that point, Tony's eyes were heavily lidded and his thumb had found its way into his mouth. He looked so vulnerable, so _lost_ , that all of Phil's frustration and annoyance faded away. His anger at Steve, on the other hand, only increased. No matter what anyone said, Tony Stark was dangerously fragile where it counted. No matter what else was happening in Steve's life, that didn't mean he had the right to ignore his other commitments.

"Will he be okay, Daddy?"

Phil tensed a little, but gave no indication that he was surprised Clint had slipped so quickly. "I hope so. It might be a little while until Tony's daddy comes home, and in the meantime I think we're going to have to take care of him. Do you think you can be a good big brother for Tony?"

"I've never had a little brother before," Clint said slowly. 

"I know." Phil didn't bother to mention he'd never intended for Clint to have one. He wrapped an arm around Clint's shoulders, muffling his yawn by pressing a kiss to Clint's head. It was still really early, and he suspected the coming day would be a long one without having to deal with a cranky, overtired little archer. "Come on, little bird. Let's take Tony and go back to bed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. This is going to have more than two chapters. I'm aiming for around four to five now.

Having a third person in the bed was a little awkward at first, because both Phil and Clint were used to sleeping on the sides without being boxed in. There was no way that it was going to work if Clint was in the middle, and one look at Clint's face told Phil that having Tony in the middle was asking for trouble, so it was Phil who ended up on his back with two little boys snoozing on either side of them. Hard as it was to fall asleep, he'd definitely had worse.

Clint slipped out of bed sometime after 6am, ostensibly to go practice, but Phil stayed where he was and dozed on and off until he felt the bed shifting in a telltale way. Without even looking, his hand shot out and grabbed Tony's wrist. Tony gave a startled squeak and fell back down onto the bed when Phil gave a sharp yank. Phil opened one eye, giving in to the urge to smile when Tony stuck his tongue out.

"Let go," he said, shaking his arm for emphasis. "I have to pee."

"Then go ahead. You can pee where you are," Phil said, not unkindly, and watched a bright pink flush spread across Tony's face.

"That's not - I don't - I -" Tony fumbled, looking torn between dying of embarrassment and trying to come up with a lie.

Phil sighed and sat up, though he didn't let go of Tony's arm just yet. "You don't have to if that's not something you're comfortable with. But it's okay if you need to, Tony. Not only do I have a niece and a nephew, Clint and I age play whenever we have the chance. It's not the first time I've changed a diaper and it won't be the last."

"Clint wears diapers?"

"Pull-ups," Phil corrected. "Though one time, when he was really sick, he did wear diapers. It was easier than trying to get him to the toilet when he had a fever of 104."

Tony nodded, a little overwhelmed, and Phil carefully released his arm. He was half-expecting Tony to take off running the moment he was free, and was pleased when Tony didn't move. 

"Do you remember what happened last night?" he asked.

"Kind of," Tony said, furrowing his brow. "I remember trying to work on the suit and getting frustrated because nothing made sense anymore. And then JARVIS told me I should go to sleep, so I went to Steve's room because I sleep better there. Then..." He went quiet, his blush darkening.

"It's okay," Phil repeated, keeping his voice gentle. "It's a good thing that JARVIS called me, Tony. I'm glad that he did. I just wish that you had told someone how much you were struggling without Steve."

"I'm fine," Tony said sharply, drawing himself up. "And Steve is doing something really important."

"I know, but that doesn't make _you_ any less important."

For a second it seemed like Tony would argue. Then his shoulders slumped, his eyes falling to the bed. "I miss him," he whispered, and he sounded so defeated that it was awful. "It's been a long time since he was really here. 'Cause even when he's here physically, he's not really. His mind is still trying to find Bucky."

"Maybe you should tell him that you miss him."

"It wouldn't make a difference," Tony mumbled, curling in on himself. "Bucky is like Steve's brother, and Steve was so excited when he found out that Bucky was alive." 

He didn't say anything else, but what he _wasn't_ saying was abundantly clear: between Tony and Bucky, between the two years Steve and Tony had shared and the lifetime Steve and Bucky had once built, Tony felt like the clear loser. And he probably didn't dare say anything to Steve just in case Steve agreed. Losing Pepper had almost destroyed Tony; losing Steve like that, because Tony wasn't good enough, would definitely do it.

"Tony," Phil said with a sigh, unable to resist reaching out to him. Tony tensed at the feel of Phil's hand on his arm, and though his eyes shot up to Phil's face, he didn't pull away. Phil took that as a sign, slowly pulling Tony closer into a warm hug. Tony was stiff for a few seconds, and then, with a whimper, he melted into the embrace.

Phil hugged him hard, absently pulling the back of Tony's shirt down to cover his diaper. He was so pissed off at Steve Rogers that it was actually a good thing Steve wasn't in the room, or Phil might've broken his hand punching Steve in the face. Why the hell hadn't Steve taken five minutes to sit his lover down and explain that Bucky wasn't going to replace Tony? It was something that Steve should have done even without the extra layer of complication that came from age play, but it was even more important now.

"Tony, listen to me," Phil said, his lips brushing the top of Tony's hair with every word he spoke. "Are you listening, honey?"

Tony nodded.

"Okay, good. I don't think you're ready to be big right now. So I think it would be a good idea if you spent the next day or two here with me and Clint."

"But you have work," Tony said.

"I have lots of vacation time saved up. HR is planning to come after me once they're doing haranguing Nick," Phil replied, which was actually true. He carefully didn't add that Tony going out into public right now, or even just into the workshop, would be a disaster. Anyone who paid even a little attention would be able to tell that Tony wasn't functioning at an adult level, and Phil didn't even want to think about the kind of damage a toddler could do to the workshop. JARVIS had been right to send Tony away.

"Shouldn't waste it on me."

"It's not a waste. I wouldn't be offering if I thought that it was," Phil said firmly. "You can be as little as you want until your daddy comes home. If you're not comfortable having your diapers changed, you can use Clint's pull-ups." He didn't give Tony the option of going without. Dealing with urine soaked clothing once had been more than enough.

Tony didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. Phil didn't try to press him, just sat there with his arms around Tony's shoulders, propped up on some pillows. It was actually pleasant; the only thing missing was Clint. But Phil knew his lover: Clint had snuck out on purpose just to give Phil time to talk Tony down. 

"Clint will be here too?" Tony finally mumbled.

"Yes. But we haven't age played for a while, so it wouldn't surprise me if he goes into his little headspace, too. You don't have to worry about him finding this weird, Tony. I promise."

Tony took a deep breath and pulled away a little. His face was clear, but his eyes looked a little red-rimmed. "I have to pee," he said again, blushing.

"Do you want help?"

Tony hesitated for so long that Phil was almost positive that he was going to say yes, but finally shyness won over and Tony shook his head. He rolled off of the bed, standing up on unsteady legs, and toddled towards the bathroom. Phil watched him go, a little surprised by the strength of the fondness he felt at the sight. As a little boy, Tony was certainly adorable.

Deciding that he might as well get up, Phil made the bed even though it would probably end up messed up before long. He got dressed and waited another two minutes before he went over and knocked on the bathroom door. There was no answer, but when he put a hand on the doorknob and twisted, it opened easily and he poked his head in to see Tony sitting on the cover of the toilet, naked from the waist down, staring at the pull-up on his lap.

Phil sighed. "Why don't I help you put on a pull-up for right now," he said patiently, stepping into the room, and it wasn't really a question. "And then later, if you feel more comfortable, we can go with what you're used to."

"I'm sorry," Tony said without looking up, his brown eyes suspiciously shiny.

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart, it's not your fault. It's just what you're used to. It would be like me telling Clint he can't wear pull-ups, or that he can't use his favorite sippy cup. Those things are part of the experience. It's what he likes because they make him feel safe, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Tony's lower lip was trembling. He clearly didn't believe one word of what Phil was saying, and Phil had to wonder how long it had taken for Tony to get comfortable using diapers around Steve. He stepped forward, took the pull-up off Tony's lap, and knelt down with a grunt. At least the pull-ups were of a higher absorbency, which would hopefully soak up any accidents that would be happening - and he was certain there would be at least one.

Tony stood up when Phil tugged the pull-up into place. He wrinkled his nose as the material settled around his hips. "Feels weird," he said with a pout.

"Do you want a diaper?"

"No."

"Okay, then," Phil said. "Let's wash our hands and then go get something for breakfast. I think I hear Clint."

A nervous look flashed across Tony's face, and he washed his hands very slowly. Phil walked out of the bathroom first, noticing that Tony kept bringing his hand up to his mouth and then letting it fall back to his side. He recalled Tony sucking his thumb last night and decided that at some point he'd have to go back to Steve's room to check and see what other baby stuff was there. He had a strong suspicion he'd find some pacifiers and possibly some bottles.

Clint was sitting on the counter when they walked into the kitchen, which he was definitely _not_ allowed to do. Phil shot him a look and Clint grinned, jumping down. His gaze landed on Tony, who was doing his damndest to hide behind Phil without looking like he was hiding, and his grin grew brighter.

"Hi Tony," he said cheerfully. "I called your daddy last night."

"You did?" Tony said, frowning. "Why?"

"Because Steve and I need to talk," Phil said smoothly. Tony would only panic if he knew that he was going to feature heavily in that particular conversation. Fortunately, Clint picked up on the silent cue.

"Daddies are boring when they talk to each other," he told Tony. "Do you want to play video games?"

"Video games?" Tony repeated, and this time his thumb slipped into his mouth.

"How about some cartoons?" Phil suggested. "You can watch while I make breakfast."

"Really?" Clint's eyes were huge. Phil rarely allowed television before breakfast.

Phil nodded, smiling as Clint ran over and grabbed Tony's hand. He towed Tony into the living room and yanked him down onto the sofa. A moment later, the screen flickered to life and Clint started looking for cartoons. By the time Clint had settled on a show, he and Tony were curled up together as naturally as though it was something they did every day, Tony still sucking his thumb. It was easily one of the cutest things that Phil had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update every Friday, but sometimes I get sick or I'm busy. If you need to know what's going on, follow my [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/) because I usually post something there if I'm not going to update.

Clint and Tony watched cartoons until breakfast was ready. Phil managed to get them both to eat some oatmeal flavored with apples and honey before he set them both up in front of a Disney movie. While they were distracted, he left JARVIS watching over them and took the elevator back to Steve's floor. The room looked exactly the same as it had when they left the night before. He stripped the stained sheets off the bed and put them in the laundry chute. The mattress was a lost cause judging from the smell and the large, faded yellow stain, but that was something else that Steve could deal when he got back home. 

A little bit of poking around in the closet revealed another diaper bag. This one had some baby toys, a couple of pacifiers, a stuffed yellow kitten, and a very soft, light purple baby blanket with yellow ducklings on the border. Phil put it by the door with the other diaper bag he'd found last night went into the kitchen. Like most of the Avengers, Steve chose to take the majority of his meals in the communal kitchen. So for the most part, the cupboards were empty except for some canned food and bottles, which had been cleaned and sterilized for new use. He took a couple of them, put them in one of the bags, and then hefted both bags onto his shoulder. His chest twinged with phantom pain, but he ignored it. Neither bag was that heavy.

Unsurprisingly, both boys were still sitting exactly where he'd left them, absorbed in the transformation of an emperor into a llama, and he was able to get the diaper bags into the bedroom without much notice. Clint looked at him sharply when he first walked in, but the colorful exclamations from the movie were too much for him to ignore and he soon turned back to the television. 

With that done, Phil sat down to take care of some paperwork. It wasn't very often he got the opportunity to do work when Clint was being little. But right now Tony was proving to be an excellent distraction. And he didn't feel quite as bad about taking a vacation day if he still got a little work done.

When the movie ended, Clint stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "Daddy, I'm bored."

"You're bored," Phil repeated, shuffling his papers together and slipping them back into his briefcase, because those were dangerous words. He'd only made the mistake of trying to work while Clint was demanding his attention once. There were still rumors going around SHIELD about the time Agent Coulson submitted field reports with purple crayon scribbled all over them. 

"I wanna bake something," Clint said.

Phil winced. Baking always resulted in a huge mess, and Clint was practically vibrating with energy which would make it even worse. "How about we play hide and seek first?" he suggested. "Then we'll have lunch, and we can bake cupcakes."

Clint considered this for a moment, his lower lip thrust out in a pout, before he nodded slowly. "Okay. Tony and I get to hide first!"

It never ceased to amaze Phil just how inventive Clint could get when it came to hiding - and he never used a hiding place twice in the same game. Even Tony proved to be adept at the game, curling himself into a tiny ball and slipping into the smallest cupboard on the entertainment unit - it took him nearly half an hour to find Tony that time, while Clint lost because he was laughing too hard to stay hidden. They played until Phil called a halt to the game because he could Clint's belly growling with hunger again. He made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, cut up into four quarters and served with milk. Clint devoured his, but Tony just picked at the bread and stared at the milk with glassy eyes. He yawned a couple of times, blinking slowly, and Phil cleared his throat.

"I think it's time for a nap," he said.

"No! Don't want a nap!" Clint said immediately.

"Not you, Clint," Phil answered patiently. "I mean you, Tony."

Tony looked back at him, eyes half-lidded. "Nap?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Nap." Phil stood up and went into the bedroom, retrieving one of the bottles. He took Tony's cup of milk and poured the contents into the bottle. Tony watched in silence, not protesting, while Clint just frowned. Phil glanced at him. "Can you be a good boy and sit tight for me while I put Tony down for a nap?"

Clint's frown grew deeper, and he squeezed a portion of his sandwich so that the bread and jelly oozed out the sides, but nodded. "Okay, Daddy."

"That's my good boy," Phil praised him with a warm smile. "Come on, Tony."

One hand on Tony's lower back, Phil gently ushered him into the bedroom and set the bottle on the nightstand. The milk would get a little warm, but that wasn't a bad thing. He turned to Tony, who was fiddling with the hem of his shirt and staring at the floor. No, Phil realized, not at the floor - he was sneaking little peeks at the diaper bags by the door. His heart melted, and he put a hand on Tony's shoulder.

"I think you'll sleep much better after a diaper change and a bottle," he said kindly. 

Tony's eyes filled with tears. He didn't say anything. Phil spread a changing pad out on the bed and helped him to lay down. The pull-up was wet when he pulled it off, and tears started to spill down Tony's red cheeks.

Phil sat back on his heels. "It's okay, Tony. I wouldn't be doing this if I had a problem with it. You don't have to be embarrassed. It's okay, baby boy, really." He kept talking in his most soothing voice as he used some baby wipes to clean Tony up. It was much more intimate than he would have expected to get with Tony Stark, but there was nothing sexual about it. He was surprised by how much it meant to him that Tony didn't try to squirm away or hide as Phil sprinkled powder on him. He flipped the front of the diaper up, smoothing the straps into place, and then brushed the tears from Tony's face.

"I want my daddy," Tony whispered.

"I know you do, sweetheart. I know." Phil stroked his hair, reaching for the bottle with his other hand. He guided it to Tony's lips, pleased when Tony latched on immediately and started to drink the milk eagerly. 

It only took about ten minutes to empty the bottle, and by that time Tony was definitely more asleep than awake. Phil helped him to scoot up the bed so that his head was on a pillow and pulled the blanket up over him, and then fetched a red pacifier, the baby blanket, and the yellow stuffed kitten. Tony's eyes lit up at the sight of the blanket and the kitten, and he clutched them both greedily to his chest. He didn't fuss about taking the pacifier, giving it a test suck as he snuggled down against the pillow. By the time Phil got to the door, Tony's eyes shut and he was breathing deeply. It made for a surprisingly adorable sight.

The sight he returned to in the kitchen was markedly less adorable. In Phil's absence, Clint had taken Tony's mostly untouched sandwich to do some redecorating. Peanut butter and strawberry jelly was now liberally smeared all over the wall. The remains of the bread was balled up on the ground. Phil stopped and stared for a moment, speechless, before he looked around for the source of the mess. Not that there was any need to look far. Clint was sitting on the counter, arms folded across a stained shirt, glaring back at him.

"Clint Barton, you know you're not allowed on the counter," Phil said. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

Clint sneered at him. "I don't care."

"You _should_ care. We have rules in this house, young man."

"I don't care!" Clint said again. There was a plate beside him on the counter. He picked it up and threw it on the ground.

"Clint!"

"I hate you!" Clint screamed, bursting into tears. "And I hate Tony, too!"

Phil stopped at that, shocked. In all the time they'd been age playing, he'd never heard Clint say that or react so violently. "Clint, what's going on with you?" he asked, concerned. In the beginning Clint had acted out a little bit when he was testing the boundaries to see what Phil would do, but never like this. 

"I hate him! I don't want him here anymore," Clint cried, and then he burst into tears. "You love him more than me! You didn't want to put me down for a nap!" He was sobbing so hard he could barely force the words out.

Steve Rogers was a _dead man_. Phil sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, and carefully picked his way through the remains of the plate. "Honey, you know that's not true. Daddy loves you more than anyone else in the world. I didn't put you down for a nap because you hate naps, and you weren't tired. Tony's just a baby. Babies need a lot of sleep."

Clint was still crying. "I don't want him here."

"I'm sorry, but I can't change that. There's no one else to look after Tony, and I can't leave him alone. That would be like leaving you alone, and look what happens when I do that," Phil said, gesturing to the kitchen with a wry smile. "Clint, I love you. Me spending time with Tony or anyone else doesn't change that. You're still my little boy."

He pulled Clint into a hug, noting that they would both need a shower after this. Clint whimpered and clung to him, pressing his face into Phil's shoulder, and Phil hugged him tightly. He hadn't anticipated this bout of what could only be called sibling rivalry, but maybe he should have. Age playing was something that the two of them always did alone, and Clint wasn't used to having share his daddy's attention. 

"Don't cry," he muttered into Clint's hair, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay. Shh. Daddy loves you."

"I'm sorry," Clint whispered after several minutes.

"I know, little bird. Just this once, I won't punish you. I should have explained things better." He brushed the tears from Clint's cheeks, cupping his face. "You know, if you wanted me to, I could put you in a diaper, too."

"I don't need a diaper," Clint said quickly. "I can go potty like a big boy."

"You sure? How about a bottle?"

"I like my Katniss cup!"

"Then how about a nap?"

"Noooo!" Clint whined, making a face. "I'm not a baby."

"No, you're my big boy," Phil said, tickling him and smiling when Clint giggled. "How about you and I do something special while Tony naps?"

"Like what?"

"We're going to bake three different kinds of cupcakes," Phil told him. "And if you help Daddy clean up this mess, I'll even let you pick out the different flavors and use the mixer."

"I can help!" Clint squirmed out of his hold and bent down to pick up a piece of the plate.

"I'll do that, Clint," Phil said hastily, taking the jagged piece from him. The last thing he needed was Clint cutting himself. His little boy didn't handle the sight of blood that well. "You get a damp cloth and start wiping down the wall, okay?" 

"Okay, Daddy!"


	4. Chapter 4

It took about two and a half hours for Phil and Clint to bake two batches of three different kinds of cupcakes. By the time Phil pulled the last batch of chocolate cupcakes out of the oven, Clint was a mess. There was chocolate batter in his hair, pumpkin spice batter smeared around his ear-to-ear grin, and vanilla batter all over his clothes, but Phil knew better than to plunk him into a bath right away. The only thing messier than baking cupcakes was decorating them. He settled for helping Clint to wash his face and hands and then left Clint scouring the kitchen for anything they could use to decorate the cupcakes while he went to go wake Tony up.

Tony was malleable and sweet and sleepy, blinking in heavily lidded silence as Phil changed his diaper and then coaxed him into getting up off of the bed. He wrapped an arm around Tony's waist and guided him out into the kitchen. In the short time he'd been gone, the clean kitchen table had been transformed. It was now covered in every imaginable kind of candy, from M&Ms to Skor bits to gummy bears, a dozen different colors of food coloring for the icing, several different kinds of sprinkles, chocolate, strawberry and caramel sauce, cherries, whipped cream, Oreo and chocolate chip cookies to be crushed up, pumpkin seeds, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and several containers of store bought icing.

The look of incredulity on Tony's face was too amusing to ignore. Phil just barely coughed back a laugh and narrowed his eyes at Clint. "Just how do you think you're going to get all of that onto those poor cupcakes?"

"I can do it," Clint said confidently, grabbing a gummy bear and popping it into his mouth. He looked over the array, paused for a moment, and then walked over to the fridge. He pulled out a container of chocolate covered almonds. He tipped the container so that the almonds rolled from one side to the other and said, "Maybe we should get -"

"I think that's enough, Clint," Phil said quickly, because the last thing he needed was JARVIS jumping to order more candy. The cupcakes were going to be swimming in sugar as it was. "Is it okay if Tony decorates the cupcakes with us?"

Clint set the almonds down and glanced at Tony. "Yeah, it's fine."

"Okay. Both of you sit down." Phil watched as the two of them sat, Tony still rubbing his eyes sleepily. It was tempting to grab his phone and snap a picture, but he refrained. Clint was confident enough in the security on Phil's phone to let him take the occasional photo, but he hadn't talked to Tony about it. There was a good chance that wasn't something Tony would be comfortable with. Which was a pity, because Tony was still sucking his pacifier and had listed sideways against Clint. Clint had thrown a casual arm around Tony's shoulders and was eyeing the gummy bears again. Phil quickly moved them out of reach.

"Daddy," Clint pouted.

"If you eat them all, there won't be any left for the cupcakes," Phil pointed out, cracking open the containers of icing. He put a little icing into a few different bowls and passed them over to the boys along with the food coloring. Unsurprisingly, Clint immediately went for the purple coloring and squeezed some into the nearest bowl. His look of wicked glee upon seeing the bright purple icing was endearing.

"Do you want to make red?" he asked, looking at Tony as he stirred his icing. "It's really easy. You just take the red one and squeeze some out."

Tony moved his head to take in the colors. Then he pointed to the blue icing that just so happened to be a perfect match for the shade of blue on Captain America's shield. Phil had to swallow the lump in his throat, and Clint's eyes were suspiciously shiny when he caught Phil's eye for a split second. To his credit, Clint didn't say anything. He just picked up the blue food coloring and squeezed a bit of it into the bowl. Behind the pacifier, Tony finally smiled at the sight of the brilliant blue. It was faint, but it was there.

"You keep mixing colors, Clint. You're doing a really good job. I'll start putting it on the cupcakes," Phil told him. It was usually better for him to do this part, because experience had taught him that Clint ended up with more icing in his mouth or on his face and hands than on the cupcakes. He took the blue icing and dumped it into one of the icing bags, then quickly began covering the tops of the cupcakes. Tony watched, looking awed, and Phil winked at him.

"I'm not just an Agent. I have other talents," he said, not bothering to mention that the first few times he'd done this with his niece and nephew, his attempts had come out pretty sad. Now he wasn't too bad if, he said so himself. He did the first tray in blue and purple, then slid it over for the boys to decorate as they wanted. The second tray of chocolate ended up in green and red. The first tray of vanilla was in pink and yellow, the second orange and green. The first tray of pumpkin spice was blue and red at Tony's request, the second purple and yellow at Clint's. 

By the time the cupcakes were decorated to Clint's satisfaction, it looked like a candy bomb had gone off and the cupcakes didn't really look like cupcakes anymore - and Phil had a sneaking suspicion that both of his boys had consumed a fair amount of sweets. But it was worth it to see the way Tony and Clint were giggling together, even if they needed a bath in the worst way. He managed to wrangle the cupcakes out of their hands and put them away in the cupboard, steeling himself against Clint's biggest set of puppy eyes and pleading for just "just one cupcake, please, Daddy" by promising that they could have a cupcake each after supper tonight.

Between the three of them they managed to clean up the kitchen, and then Phil hustled them into the bathroom. Tony hung back as Phil ran water and bubble bath into the tub. Clint stripped unashamedly, throwing his dirty clothes on the floor and climbing into the bath with a huge grin. He frowned at Tony and said, "What are you waiting for? Come _on_ , or Daddy won't get the wet crayons!"

"Wet crayons?" Tony echoed, looking confused, and didn't protest when Phil helped him to take off his shirt and his diaper. He was slower to get into the bath, kneeling down and putting his back to the wall. His shoulders were hunched a little.

"Haven't you ever used them before?" Phil asked, pulling the crayons out from under the sink. It was a special order twenty-four pack with two different shades of purple, and Clint's face lit up when he saw them. He grabbed the purple crayons as soon as Phil set the package down and started scribbling away on the wall of the tub. Tony watched this with an open mouth.

"I'm gonna draw an elephant," Clint said, tongue caught between his teeth as he carefully drew the elephant's trunk. 

"Go ahead, Tony. It's okay. It washes right off," Phil told him, rolling his sleeves up. Clint didn't really like taking a bath. It was easiest to wash him when he was distracted, when the only times he whined was if Phil got in the way of his drawing. He grabbed the washcloth, lathered it up with soap, and started scrubbing away.

It took a few minutes for Tony to get comfortable enough to pick up a red crayon and start drawing a picture of Iron Man. Phil pretended not to notice, keeping his focus on getting Clint clean. It was truly amazing how much batter and caramel sauce Clint had managed to get in his hair. Phil had to wash it twice before it was clean. Clint sulked the whole time, only giving a begrudging smile when Phil complimented his elephant and suggested he draw a tiger in yellow to accompany it.

"I guess there could be a tiger," Clint muttered, shoving his wet hair out of his face. 

"Or maybe a penguin. You love penguins."

"Daddy, there aren't any penguins at the circus!"

Phil chuckled at his outrage. "You're right, little bird, I'm sorry. What was Daddy thinking? What other kinds of animals could you draw?"

Clint thought hard, scrunching his face up. "Ummm... a zebra!"

"I think a zebra would be an excellent addition," Phil said, noticing that Tony had moved on to drawing the other Avengers. The Hulk was on the tile in livid green. Tony was working on drawing Black Widow in dark blue. He carefully started cleaning Tony up, though Tony wasn't as messy as Clint had been. 

"You gotta put Hawkeye in purple," Clint said, looking at Tony's picture.

Tony paused. "Pink," he said decisively.

"What? No, purple!"

Tony turned to look at him. Silently he pointed to Clint's other hand. Clint followed his gaze and then frowned when he realized that he was still clutching the two purple crayons, even though he wasn't using them. Sheepishly, he offered the them to Tony, who took the darker of the two and obediently started to sketch out Hawkeye standing beside the Black Widow. Phil smiled to himself. Sibling jealousy aside, this was a good experience for Clint. It was teaching him how to share, if nothing else.

"Agent Coulson."

Phil jumped a little at the sound of JARVIS's voice. Every once in a while he managed to forget about the A.I. "Yes, JARVIS?"

"Captain Rogers has returned to the tower and wishes to speak with you immediately."

The effect those few words had on Tony was instantaneous. He dropped the purple crayon into the water and his eyes filled with tears. It was obvious he was crushed that Steve had asked for Phil and not him. 

"Thank you, JARVIS," Phil said, keeping his voice steady with considerable effort. The renewed surge of anger he felt was blinding. "Tell him to wait for me in his room. Once he's there, don't let him go anywhere else. And don't tell him anything about Tony. I'll be up in about a half an hour."

"Yes sir."

"I wanna come," Clint said.

"No, Clint."

"But -"

"I said no," Phil repeated, silencing him with a meaningful look. It wasn't safe for Tony to be alone right now, and Phil definitely wanted to get to Steve first - because if Tony got to Steve first, then he'd fill Steve's ears with lies about how everything was fine. If Clint wanted to have words or get physical with Steve after the fact, than that was fine with Phil. But right now Tony was more important.

Clint must have understood, because he pouted but nodded. He didn't fuss the way he normally did when Phil drained the tub, getting out, drying himself off and then putting on his favorite Katniss pajamas. Phil dried Tony and then put into him a fresh diaper and a pair of Clint's pajamas that had little cats on them. Then he cupped Tony's face and made Tony look at him, wiping at the tear tracks with his thumbs.

"It will be okay," he said. "I'm just going to talk to your daddy."

"What if he doesn't want me anymore?" Tony whispered.

For one of the few times in his life, Phil hesitated because he wasn't sure what to say. He was almost positive that Steve would never break up with Tony, that Steve was so head over heels in love that the idea was laughable. But then again, there was a time when Phil would have thought that Steve could never be this neglectful. Frankly, none of them knew Steve Rogers as well as they believed they did. In the end, he went with the only thing that he knew to be 100% true.

"You'll always have a place here with me and Clint. We'll take care of you, Tony, I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

Leaving Clint and Tony alone was not an easy thing to do, but Phil forced himself to do it anyway. He used the brief time in the elevator to forget about the two pairs of big brown eyes that had watched his departure and instead focused on what was about to happen. In a way, the next ten to twenty minutes would be the deciding factor in whether Tony Stark and Steve Rogers stayed together or broke up. It wasn't a responsibility he ever thought he'd have, but now that the task was before him he wasn't going to back down.

Steve was in the bedroom when Phil walked onto the floor. There was no sign of Natasha or Sam, but he wasn't really surprised by that. It was entirely possible that both of them had stayed in Canada to keep searching for Bucky. He cleared his throat, watching as Steve spun around in surprise. He noticed that Steve looked worried, but not angry. A little frustrated, maybe. Probably, he had been asking JARVIS questions and getting less than fulfilling answers.

"Where's Tony?" Steve demanded. "I was down to the workshop and up to our bedroom but he's not there. JARVIS said he's in the building, but he wouldn't tell me where. What's wrong? What happened? Is he hurt?"

"Physically, he's fine," Phil said. Satisfying as it was to watch Steve worry for once, he wasn't cruel enough to let it go on for too long. "Mentally and emotionally is another story entirely. What I am about to share with you, Captain, goes no further than this room. If I ever find out that you repeated another word of it to anyone outside of Tony, Clint or myself, you won't have to worry about your enemies because I will kill you first. Do you understand me?"

Steve's eyebrows drew together, but he recognized the threat as a valid one. "I - yes, of course. What's going on?"

"When we have the chance, which is not always as often as we would like, Clint and I age play just like you and Tony do," Phil said simply. 

It was interesting to watch the emotions play out across Steve's face. Surprise at the information, then a hint of embarrassment at something so personal being aired, and then - finally - worry. "What happened to Tony? How do you know that?"

"Last night, JARVIS woke me up to say that Tony needed my help. Clint and I came to your room and found Tony in your bed, crying. He'd wet himself and didn't know what to do about it. Not only that, but he was hysterical, sleep-deprived, and most likely dehydrated." Phil folded his arms, grateful for the blank mask that he'd perfected which allowed him to keep his composure. Remembering how lost and vulnerable Tony had been, and how easily it would've been for someone else to take advantage of him had it occurred outside of the tower, made him feel sick.

"Oh my god," Steve breathed, horrified. "What - _why_? Did something -"

"Yes, actually," Phil interrupted him. "Something did happen. Two years ago Tony started dating someone. This man was everything that Tony had ever wanted. Tony grew up idolizing him and was half in love with this man before they even met. And when he and this man started consensual, regular age play on top of dating, it probably seemed like a dream come true. 

"But then this man started leaving for long periods of time. Oh, he had an excellent excuse. Someone he'd thought was dead for a long time was actually alive. Who was Tony to say that this man couldn't go? Or that this man was needed at home more than he was on the search? That's not Tony. No, Tony would want this man to do whatever made him happy, even if it meant that Tony didn't have his boyfriend or his daddy around.

"Tony would push himself to be okay, and he'd tell that man what he wanted to hear, because Tony doesn't think he is important. Even if he was at the very edge and couldn't keep himself together anymore. Even if it meant that he was a danger to himself, because he was at the point of being unable to care for himself or _stop anyone who wanted to hurt him_."

Phil was practically biting the words out. Steve was growing paler with every word he spoke, but he didn't care. As far as Phil was concerned, Steve should have known better. "It was very lucky for Tony that there happened to be another daddy who lived in the tower, one was able to take care of him until _his_ daddy returned. Except now Tony doesn't think his daddy wants him anymore. He thinks that his daddy doesn't love him anymore and his boyfriend is going to break up with him, because he doesn't matter as much as Bucky."

Steve flinched at the sound of Bucky's name. It was like he'd woken himself up from a daze. He jumped to his feet. "I have to see Tony. Now."

"Sit down!" Phil barked in his best 'Agent Coulson' voice, gratified when Steve instantly obeyed. "You're not going anywhere near Tony until I'm convinced that you're not going to hurt him."

"I would never -"

"I don't want to hear it. You might _think_ you'd never hurt Tony, but neglect can do just as damage as raising your hand," Phil said. 

"I didn't..." Steve trailed off into silence. A funny look came over his face, and then his shoulders slumped. "I've really screwed up, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have," Phil replied bluntly. "Steve, even setting aside the age play, you can't have a relationship with someone and just expect them to be okay with you running off to chase someone else all the time. I know what Bucky means to you. Everyone does. But Tony should be the most important person in your life, and you haven't been treating him that way."

"I - it was... Bucky _needed_ me... and I thought..."

"Just because Bucky needs you doesn't mean Tony doesn't. You of all people should know how little material objects actually matter to Tony. He'd sell the tower and give up his whole fortune if he thought it would make you happy. He needs the same kind of support from you, and he has a right to expect it."

Tears glistened in Steve's blue eyes and he lowered his head, covering his face with his hands. "I know."

A small speck of pity wormed its way through the anger. Steve looked so young at that moment. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was only in his late twenties, and that Tony was his first real relationship. Phil sighed and rubbed his chest, casting his gaze towards the ceiling in search of strength. Fury had never bothered to mention that being the official handler for the Avengers would be this much of a headache, or mean he'd come to care this much.

Sometimes he missed the days when all he had to worry about was a small team of agents that were rotated every month to keep any handler from getting too close.

"Look, you made a big mistake but I don't think it's irreparable. You do have to decide, though, what your priorities are. If you can't handle that kind of relationship with Tony right now, that's okay. You're a part of this too," Phil said, taking a seat on the bed beside Steve. "And if it's not what you can handle, then you have to talk to Tony about it. But you absolutely cannot just leave him alone again."

"I don't want to lose him," Steve whispered brokenly. "Sometimes the only thing that kept me going was knowing that Tony was waiting for me."

It was a relief to hear those words. Phil relaxed a little. This, he could work with. "I don't think you're going to lose him. Tony is still head over heels in love with you. You guys have some options here. You can cool things off for now and pick up again later. Or you could go back to just being partners, no age play."

"But Tony needs -"

"I don't mind stepping in. I'd have to talk it over with Clint, but I think he would be okay with it."

"You'd do that?" Steve said, obviously surprised, and Phil shrugged.

"There's something frustratingly endearing about a little Tony Stark," he said wryly. "Kid weaseled his way in before I even knew what was going on."

Steve smiled at that, just a weak quirk of his lips, but it was there. "I appreciate the offer, but... I want to keep my relationship with Tony the same. I... at first this age play thing was just for him, but... I never realized how much peace it gives me. Looking after Tony when he's little, making sure he's happy and cared for, it makes everything else easier to handle."

Phil knew exactly what he was talking about. Sometimes focusing on Clint and his needs when he was little was the only thing that held Phil together. Knowing that someone so small and fragile needed him was a very potent thing. It was even better when he knew that need came from a place of deep trust. Clint could've chosen anyone to take care of him, but he'd picked Phil. 

"Then you need to think about how you're going to handle this situation with Bucky. Because you absolutely can't do this anymore, Steve. Tony can't handle it. He spent his whole life being told that nothing he did was good enough. It's not fair to make him play second fiddle to Bucky all the time."

"But I can't just... stop looking for Bucky."

"I don't think you should. For one thing, Tony would never allow it," Phil answered, trying not to picture the shit storm that would result. "But I do think you should stop running off at the slightest little sighting. How many of your trips have turned out to be a waste of time?"

Steve winced. "More than I want to admit. Sometimes we get there and Bucky is long gone. Other times it wasn't really him."

"Those are all times you could've spent at home with Tony," Phil pointed out. "I can talk to Fury. We can put a few more agents on searching for the Winter Soldier if you're willing to wait for confirmation."

"Fury would do that?"

"Believe me, we want the Winter Soldier off the grid just as badly as you do."

"And you think... Tony would be okay with that?"

"Tony was always going to be okay with you going. The problem is, he let it be okay to the point where his own health was suffering. And yours," Phil added, giving him a critical once over. Steve looked pretty horrible for a man that was supposed to be the peak of human condition. "But that's because you're both idiots sometimes."

"I guess it's a good thing you're here," Steve said with a weak smile. "Thank you. Not just for taking care of Tony, but for making me see how stupid I've been. I didn't even realize how bad things had gotten." His eyes welled up again.

"He's okay," Phil said gently. "He wants to see you. Like I said, he thinks you're going to break up with him. If you're really sure that's not what you want, then I know a baby boy who desperately needs his daddy."

"Please," Steve whispered, looking like he wanted to cry. "I'll be the best daddy ever. I'll do anything. Just - please."

Phil stood up and led him out of the room. Steve wasn't out of the dog house yet, but Phil believed him when he said that he wanted to make it up to Tony. Which was fortunate, because the first thing Phil saw when the elevator doors opened were two heads whipping around to see what was going on. Clint and Tony were sitting together on the couch, though the television was off and the dried tear tracks on Tony's face suggested that they hadn't been having fun.

Tony's eyes went wide when he saw Steve follow Phil out of the elevator, and he looked at Phil. The uncertainty in his face was heartbreaking. 

"It's okay, Tony," Phil told him.

"Tony," Steve said raggedly a second later. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

That was evidently all Tony needed to hear. He sprang up from the couch and flew across the room, throwing himself into Steve's arms. Steve scooped him up, supporting Tony on his hip as Tony burst into tears. A litany of apologies poured from Steve's lips as he clutched him close, a few stray tears falling down his face.

Clint had stood up as well. Phil walked over to him and hugged him, feeling Clint relax. "It's okay," he said again, this time for Clint's benefit.

"Are you sure?" Clint asked.

"I think, given a little time, they will be."


	6. Chapter 6

Out of all the paperwork Phil had to do, it was the forms for the stupid shit that annoyed him the most. He frowned as he scrawled his signature across the bottom of a release form on Clint's behalf. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why SHIELD's medical bay bothered anymore. None of the Avengers appreciated being cooped up when they were in pain or ill, and Clint was no different: his busted ankle, a side effect of having to jump twenty feet off an exploding building, had done nothing to keep him confined in bed. But the doctors seemed determined to get their own form of revenge in a mountain of paperwork. He wondered how pissed Fury would get if Phil happened to misfile the majority of it.

He set his pen down and straightened up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck before he got up. Clint was watching cartoons on the couch - or he was _supposed_ to be watching cartoons on the couch. Phil eyed the now empty space with resignation. It was littered with blankets, a Katniss sippy cup, several empty pudding cups, two teddy bears, and one of Phil's sweatshirts, but conspicuously missing an archer. The crutches Clint had been given were still leaning against the chair, so he couldn't have gone far. But knowing Clint, that didn't mean much, especially since the pain medication he was on was pretty decent.

"JARVIS, where is Clint?" Phil asked, and he would never admit it out loud, but staying in the tower was completely worth it if only for the fact that JARVIS monitored pretty much the whole building - bedrooms and bathrooms aside, of course. Clint could be a creature of habit when he wasn't feeling well, but every once in a while he would be driven to nest somewhere small or cramped, and it would take more ingenuity than Phil had at the moment to track him down.

"Agent Barton is in the guest bedroom," JARVIS replied immediately.

"The guest - " Phil cut himself off when he heard the very familiar sound of a baby crying. "God damn it, Clint."

For the most part, this little arrangement worked out just fine. Tony didn't always need him and Clint when Steve was gone, mostly because Steve had been making a concentrated effort to spend more time at the tower - and with Tony - and it had been doing wonders for them both. But every once in a while, when Steve was gone tracking Bucky down, Tony would come to their door. It had only happened about half a dozen times, and it was usually during the middle of the night because nothing with Tony Stark was ever convenient, but one look at those tear-filled brown eyes melted Phil's heart every time. There was no way he could ever turn Tony away. Last night had been one of those nights.

He walked into the guest bedroom, completely unsurprised when he saw the expression of guilt on Clint's face. "I just wanted to play with him," Clint said defensively, crossing his arms.

Phil sighed. "I know you did, sweetheart. But Tony needs his sleep," he said gently. It had been a very long week for all of the Avengers. It was always harder when Steve and Natasha were both gone. But this also happened to be the week before the Stark Expo, and Tony had been going flat out. Three calls to assemble, mixed in with all of his duties to Stark Industries and the R&D department, meant that Tony was completely exhausted and probably hadn't had more than five hours sleep in five days. It had been bad enough that Pepper had called Phil and recommended that all of the Avengers be benched for a day or two.

"Babies are boring," Clint said, pouting now. 

"I'll play with you."

"You were doing paperwork."

"I'm done with it now. And honestly, you can burn it for all I care."

Clint looked up, intrigued and hopeful. "Really?"

"We'll even roast marshmallows," Phil promised. He was normally a stickler for paperwork, considering that it was what helped to keep SHIELD afloat, but at this rate the doctors were just going to have to suck it up. It wasn't like they could do anything, and if they ever complained to Fury, well. Phil just hoped he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

"I'm sorry I woke Tony up, Daddy," Clint said, shifting. He was perched awkwardly on the side of the bed. His lower left leg, encased in a bright purple cast, was dragging on the floor, making him look awkward and clunky instead of his usual grace. The only other thing he wore was a purple t-shirt and a pull-up patterned with blue stars, because he was having a little trouble making it to the bathroom when the medication started to wear off.

"I forgive you, and I'm sure Tony will too. Do you need my help getting back to the couch?"

"No. I can do it." To prove it, Clint stood up and started hopping towards the door. It was slow going and way cuter than it had any right to be, but he looked so determined that Phil didn't bother to offer his help again. Despite Clint's confidence, Phil lingered by the door until he was absolutely sure that Clint had made it to the couch. Then he turned his attention to Tony.

"Hey you," he said softly, approaching the bed. "It's okay, sweetheart. Don't cry. I know, you're still so sleepy." Phil smiled sympathetically when Tony yawned and blinked at him, eyes still bright with confused tears. He sat down in the same spot that Clint had been in and picked up the pacifier that was sitting there, pressing it to Tony's mouth. "He was just anxious to play, that's all. Maybe later, after you've slept a little more, you two could play with Clint's dinosaurs. I know how much you like that, right?"

Tony blinked again, slower this time, and sucked on his pacifier, already mostly asleep. Phil patted his belly and then stealthily checked his diaper. He wasn't surprised to find it wet. "Looks like you need to be changed. Let's get you into a fresh diaper and then you can go back to sleep, okay?'

He retrieved a diaper bag from the closet - a new one, red with yellow stitching, kept there for just this sort of occasion - and returned to the bed. Tony was pliable and sleep-warm, not fussing as Phil unsnapped the bottom of the one piece jumpsuit and removed his diaper. He tossed the soiled diaper in the garbage pan and grabbed a couple of baby wipes, cleaning Tony up with quick, practiced motions. He had just finished and was throwing the baby wipes out too when he heard the door to the apartment open and close. Phil froze as Tony's eyes shot wide, all traces of sleepiness gone, but before either of them could react Clint started yelling.

"Uncle Steve! You're home! Did you bring me a gift? Did you see what happened to my ankle? Tony's being a baby and sleeping all the time, and Daddy's been doing boring stuff, so will you play with me?"

Steve laughed and said something unintelligible, and Phil relaxed, turning quickly to Tony when he heard a couple of shuddering breaths. There were tears already leaking out from under Tony's eyelids, though whether it was from the panic or the fact that Steve was home, Phil wasn't sure. He patted Tony's ankle, murmuring, "It's okay, Tony, it's just your daddy."

"Daddy!" Clint shouted as the bedroom door opened. Steve was effortlessly carrying Clint on one arm, and Clint looked like he was absolutely loving it. "Uncle Steve is home!"

"So I see," Phil said, making an effort to hide his amusement. He wasn't quite sure when Steve had become 'Uncle Steve', and judging by the look on Steve's face, he wasn't either. "How was your trip?"

"More fruitful than usual," Steve replied, gently depositing Clint on the edge of the bed. Phil stepped out of the way as Steve scooped Tony up into a huge hug. Tony curled into him, smaller than Phil would've thought he could become, practically disappearing into Steve's arms. 

"You can tell me all about it when you're done," Phil said. "I'll get a bottle ready, and something more substantial for the rest of us if you're hungry."

"Thanks, Phil," Steve said softly, the gravity of his tone making it clear that he was talking about more than just supper.

"No problem," Phil answered, meaning it, and extended a hand to Clint. "C'mon, little bird, you can help me make some sandwiches for lunch."

"I want mine toasted."

"What's the magic word?"

"Please," Clint said, looking like he was just barely refraining from rolling his eyes, and let Phil help him up. Phil wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him out of the room. Halfway to the couch, Clint stopped abruptly, reaching up to fist his hand in Phil's shirt. His face twisted into a weird expression and then he started to squirm, cheeks turning pink and eyes dropping.

"Clint?"

Clint blushed harder, glancing over his shoulder at the bedroom door. His voice was barely audible when he whispered, "Bathroom, Daddy."

"Oh, right. Of course. Do you want help?"

Phil was fully expecting him to say no, so he was shocked when Clint slowly nodded. The progress to the bathroom was slow, as Clint was starting to limp more heavily now: it was almost noon, and time for another dose of his pain medication. Phil carefully eased the wet pull-up down and then helped him to sit on the toilet. Clint sighed and cleaned himself up as Phil threw the soiled pull-up out and then took a new one out from under the sink. 

"Daddy, my leg hurts," he said as Phil got down on one knee. He grimaced when Phil accidentally nudged the cast while pulling the pull-up, and he bit his lip in pain when he had to stand up.

"I know it does, baby. Just give me a minute and Daddy will give you something to make it better," Phil said, washing his hands quickly. He supported Clint while Clint washed his hands too, then helped him back to the couch. He sat Clint down and then took his sippy cup into the kitchen.

He put some orange juice into the cup and brought it back out to Clint, along with two pills. Clint took them without argument, which was an indication of how bad he was feeling it. Phil stroked his hair for a moment, then wrapped the blanket back around Clint's shoulders and went to go make some lunch. Previous experience had taught him that there was very little Clint would eat when he wasn't feeling well, but a peanut butter and banana sandwich would usually do the trick.

He made up a dozen sandwiches, well aware that Steve could probably polish off half a dozen on his own, and took one of Tony's bottles out of the cupboard. He'd started keeping some of the liquid meal replacement shakes that SHIELD sometimes sent with agents on long distance ops on hand, and he'd already planned to give some to Steve. They were nutritious, filling, and looked exactly like milk. He doubted Tony would be willing to eat much, so the meal replacement was the next best thing. Phil loaded it all up on the tray with two cups of coffee and went back out to the living room.

Steve and a freshly diapered Tony were sitting in the chair. Clint was watching the television through heavily lidded eyes. Phil handed over the bottle first, watching as Steve quickly and expertly readjusted Tony into a more comfortable position before hooking the pacifier out of Tony's mouth. Before Tony had the chance to do much more than pout, Steve gave him the bottle. Tony sucked once, frowned a bit like he wasn't sure, and then settled down to drink with more fervor. 

Pleased, Phil sat down beside Clint and gave him a sandwich before taking one for himself. It was actually nice to just sit for a few minutes and watch the cartoon that Clint had on - something about two kids and summer vacation. Clint finished his sandwich, ate half of a second one, and then passed out against Phil's shoulder. Phil wrapped an arm around him and finished off the rest of the sandwich himself. By that point, Tony was mostly done with his bottle and fading fast.

"So tell me about your mission," Phil said as Steve set the bottle aside and finally reached for a sandwich. "You said it was fruitful. Did you make contact?"

"Sort of. It was... promising. Nothing concrete yet," Steve replied, absently rubbing Tony's back. Tony burped quietly and then, like someone had flipped a switch, passed out. "He... he actually talked to Natasha, not me. Just for a minute. He asked her about her knife, and then he ran away."

"That's progress."

"Yeah, I know. She decided to stay behind when Sam and I left." Steve sighed. "Maybe she can bring him back."

"I hope she can," Phil said kindly. He remained quiet as Steve ate another four sandwiches before falling asleep, never once letting Tony go. Phil picked up the remote and muted the television, listening the comforting sound of three people breathing. Bucky coming back was most likely inevitable, but it would be interesting to see what kind of effect that had on Steve and Tony. For Tony's sake, Phil hoped it would be a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be at least one more one shot to this verse at some point, so I recommend you subscribe to the series if you want to make sure you don't miss it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/) if you want to know more about me or my fics.


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